Submission
by SSJL
Summary: Temperance Brennan likes being in control. Might it ever be helpful to choose submission? Rated M for a little kinky, smutty fun...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yeah. So. Um. Little kink warning for this one:) If you're looking for the sweet, fluffy, lovey smut, you might want to turn elsewhere. Like maybe the Happy Holiday series by Nekkid Booth Inc.! But heck if I didn't feel the urge to write something just a little nasty here. Consider yourself duly warned.**

**You know what's amazing? How in my stories, Dr. Sweets sorta does therapy just like I do! **_**Wow **_**he's so good with his working knowledge of attachment theory and his empathy and his recognition that B/B just need to do each other. I want him for **_**my **_**therapist. Heehee.**

**Hope you enjoy! And don't want to lock me up!**

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* * *

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"I get the sense that there is something specifically you wanted to talk to me about." Sometimes, Lance Sweets knew, being a therapist meant playing the role of master of the obvious. Of course there was something she specifically wanted to talk about. That's why she had called for a special appointment, _alone, _please, with that nervous edge to her voice. But now, sitting in front of him, Temperance Brennan wasn't being very forthcoming, so he did his best to gentle her concerns out of her.

She was silent for another moment while Sweets waited patiently. Finally, she spoke. "I'm very professional." Said decisively.

Okay, then, that was a start. "You are very dedicated to your work," he reflected, and she nodded vigorously.

"Yes. And people respect me. I manage much of what happens in my lab. And I prefer it that way."

"You prefer being in charge?" Paraphrasing. A deceptively simple, yet essential counseling skill.

She looked thoughtful. "Yes. I suppose I do."

"Is that what brought you here today? Are people challenging your authority?"

"No. The people I work with defer to me most of the time." Glancing at him again with an uncharacteristically unsure expression, her voice was almost pleading. "I am _not _weak."

"You're comfortable in that position. Being in control. It allows you to be the strong, independent person you feel yourself to be."

"I _am _that person," she replied emphatically.

"But something has happened that has challenged that perception. That has brought a question to your mind."

Now, she looked up at him, surprised. "How did you know that?"

Sweets shrugged. "I can't imagine you'd be here defending your strength, unless something occurred that made you doubt it."

Her face was fire, and she looked down again. "I was with Agent Booth the other day when he arrested a suspect. She…it was a she…was uncooperative. He had to be a little rough with her."

"Ah." Now, Sweets felt he understood. "We've discussed this before. It makes you angry when Booth uses his authority against people weaker than himself. When he seemingly violates their rights as human beings."

"No." He looked surprised. "Well, yes. But this person…he wasn't violating her rights. She gave up her rights when she killed the people she killed. And, like I said, she was being uncooperative."

"I see. I'm sorry I made assumptions, Dr. Brennan."

"That's alright. It was a reasonable assumption."

"So, if not anger…what was it? What did seeing Agent Booth subduing a resisting suspect make you feel?" She looked incredibly uncomfortable at that moment, and he tried to comfort her. "It's okay, Dr. Brennan. All feelings are welcome here."

She sighed, fingers twisting in the material of the sweater she was wearing. "I wish it made me angry, because that I would have understood."

"But instead…"

"But instead…" She was biting her lower lip so hard he was surprised it didn't draw blood. "Instead…it turned me on."

* * *

As an FBI agent and a former Ranger, there were three particularly useful skills that Seeley Booth had picked up along the way. One was to notice tiny details, even in the middle of chaotic situations. Another was to read people, get a sense of what they were thinking and feeling even when they were lying, or not saying anything at all. The last was the ability to subdue a person even when they were struggling like a wildcat in his hands.

At this moment, the last of those was probably the most important, even though it wasn't a particularly difficult task. The person he was arresting couldn't have weighed more than 105 pounds, and she wasn't strong. She had to know that the twisting and wiggling while he read her her rights was only irritating him, and not contributing to any possibility of escape.

"Would you stay still?" he requested, while he held her wrists in place with one hand easily while patting her down with the other. "You're going to hurt yourself." Satisfied that there were no concealed weapons on the front of her, he turned her and held her against the wall, checking the back.

"Fuck you," she replied helpfully, taking a jab at him with her knee, which he sidestepped and held up to the wall with his own. To be fair, he didn't really expect politeness from a hitwoman that killed 4 people in cold blood for the right price, especially not when he was about to put her in prison for the rest of her life. God forbid anybody try to make things _easy _for him.

"Lady, _stop fighting me. _I don't want to hurt you. But you are going to do what I say now whether you want to or not."

"You need help, Booth?" He was actually surprised his partner had asked, and hadn't simply come on over to dropkick his difficult subject into submission. Temperance Brennan. There was a woman who had no problem taking matters into her own hands.

"Nope, I'm good, Bones," he told her, really wanting to avoid having to explain to his boss again why their suspects often ended up in such bad shape. Slapping the cuffs on his feisty prisoner and holding onto her tightly, he finally hazarded a glance at his partner. And suddenly, those first two skills became very, very important.

His partner was looking at him. That in itself wasn't what was strange; Brennan was always studying everything, and Booth was no exception. She looked at him with a cool reason that drove him crazy when she thought she knew something he didn't. Looked at him with an appreciative, curious half-smile when he was doing his job particularly well. Looked at him with a relaxed gaze over their drinks at the end of a case. But none of those looks was the one she was giving him right this moment.

Her glazed-looking eyes were a darker shade of blue than he had ever seen them, and they were heavy-lidded. Her tongue darted out to touch her lips, wet them. Through her oh-so-professional-looking white blouse, he could see her nipples pressing prominently against the fabric, just begging to be set free. That gaze traveled down and up his body, where, for one searing second, it met his eyes. Right before she flicked them away with an expression that looked suspiciously like guilt. He took all this in in a split second, and it was a sight amazing enough to disarm him into not avoiding his suspect's next, well-placed kick to his kneecap. "Dammit," he swore, forcing her back up against the wall with a thump. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brennan jump. Okay, this was enough of this. With a jerk, he pulled the prisoner around, led her to the car, tried to focus on the last part of arresting business. But meanwhile, only one thought was running through his head.

No way. No. Fucking. Way. His partner wasn't always the easiest woman to read, granted. But Seeley Booth knew a woman hot for it when he saw one.

She must have been daydreaming. That was the only explanation. Indulging in a brief fantasy while her partner performed his part of their mutual job of catching the bad guys (or girls, as the case may be). That had to be it. Because the only other thing happening in that room right then was him manhandling an energetic murderess against the wall. Unless…

He pushed those thoughts from his head as he pushed said murderess into the car. Had to, lest his suspect see the hard-on growing in his pants and think that it had anything to do with her. When, suddenly, the only image that had taken residence in his usually very professional, very _Catholic _brain was the one of slapping those handcuffs on one forensic anthropologist who had a habit of driving him absolutely crazy…

* * *

"You're disturbed by your intense reaction to Agent Booth's show of strength and power to this suspect."

"I'm disturbed by _that _particular reaction."

"Because of its sexual nature?"

Talking about sex _never _made her uncomfortable. Why did she feel like she wanted the floor to swallow her up right now? "I just want to point out right now, Dr. Sweets, that my belief in the equality of men and women extends to sexual situations. I resent the notion that men should be in charge of orchestrating sexual encounters, or the thought that women all secretly _want _to be submissive. That is not me. If anything, I've always been…"

"In control," he completed for her. "Just like you have been in your personal and professional life."

"I'm not going to be ashamed of that," she replied indignantly. "If I wasn't so good at taking care of myself, I wouldn't be where I am today. If I hadn't learned to take charge of my own life, I may not even have survived."

"You make a valid point. Autonomy was not a luxury for you. It was an essential survival skill."

"Exactly."

"Which is why it makes perfect sense for you to be intrigued and aroused by Agent Booth's dominance."

"Exac…wait. What?"

Sweets had known that would throw her. "Hear me out, Dr. Brennan. We are all born dependent. Completely, utterly, totally helpless. Our caregivers must feed us, shelter us, clean us, and nurture us. Or we will die."

She nodded slowly. "I'm following."

"As we grow physically, so does our capacity for autonomy. But achieving _full _independence…that doesn't happen for a long time. We learn to walk, but that doesn't mean we are ready to go out and explore the world. We learn to feed ourselves, but that doesn't mean we are capable of attaining ourselves the food we put in our mouths. We learn to create relationships with other people, but that doesn't mean we don't need that secure base to come home to. Ideally, our parents introduce us to that independence slowly, carefully. Allowing us the freedom to grow and explore, but also providing limits and assistance when needed or wanted. And, by letting their child mature in this way little by little, the child becomes secure in her own efficacy, but still trusting of others to take care of her when she really needs it. The ideal mix of self versus other, dependence versus autonomy."

Brennan cocked her head. "Why do I feel like this is going to end with you saying it's my parents' fault and I need years of therapy and medication to remedy whatever is wrong with me?"

"It's not about blame, Dr. Brennan. The fact is that your parents started this process with you, but you had it yanked away. You were forced into independence, whether you wanted to be or not. You never were able to fully trust that there would be a safe place for you to return to. Your needs to be able to put your trust in someone completely were not met."

"My needs weren't met. So therefore…I get turned on by watching Booth aggressively handle a suspect?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I've stopped following."

His voice was patient, soothing. "You know what happens when your developmental needs don't get met?"

"They go away?" She asked hopefully, knowing that it wasn't the right answer.

Sweets shook his head. "They become huge. Intensified."

She frowned. "Wouldn't that mean I'd be overly dependent then? In all areas of my life?"

"Not necessarily. For some people, that's how it might manifest. But for you…"

"For me…?"

"For you…and granted, this is an interpretation, so let me know if it doesn't fit…the need has become deeply internalized. You have externally embraced your independence, thrive on it. But deep inside, you long to give up control completely, and be safe doing it. Just to let go entirely and know that you'll be caught from that fall. You've never had that sense of safety before, and you desperately want to give into it."

She stared at him.

"So…when you saw Agent Booth arrest that uncooperative suspect, it awoke in you a powerful, dormant urge. The urge to be dominated and protected at the same time. The result of your needs being unmet for too long."

She stayed silent for awhile longer, and he gave her that time to process his words, to fit the pieces he gave her into the puzzle in her mind. When she spoke again, it was incredulously. "I want to be…dominated?"

"Not in general," he was quick to say. "Just…by Booth. I guess."

"That sounds…sick."

"I see it as a good sign. Part of you is finally acknowledging those needs you have. Albeit, in an…unconventional way." She was staring at him so uncomprehendingly that he was fairly certain any second she would stand up, call him crazy, and storm out of the room. Oh well, he might as well go for broke. "And…if Agent Booth is someone you feel you can trust…I see no reason not to talk to him about those urges." The worst that could happen is that she would slap him on the way out the door.

Instead, she remained thoughtful. "I want to be dominated. By Booth." Seeing how the words felt on her tongue.

"What would it mean for you to be dominated by Booth?"

A slow smile crossed her face.

* * *

He had a steel bar that spanned the doorway to his bedroom. A simple exercise tool, but an effective one. Now, he did pull-ups on it. And with each flex of his biceps, another unwanted fantasy popped into his mind.

One. Bones, whining an apology for contradicting him in front of his colleagues while she laid across his lap, bare bottom exposed to his hand as it came down on her with a swat just hard enough to sting, his fingers immediately soothing away the faint pink marks that appeared there.

Two. Bones, blindfolded, trembling, begging with an edge of excitement to know what he was going to do to her next, while his mouth and fingers took turns doing sinful things to her luscious body.

Three. Bones, sweetly asking him to do that _just a little bit harder _when he grazed her skin with his teeth, nipping and sucking to make tiny marks that would mark her as his for anyone who dared to look at her to see…

And so on.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Usually exercise helped to tame the myriad frustrations that he experienced in his life and in his job, but right now it was like trying to tame a tiger with a flyswatter. This was just unacceptable. He felt dirty just for entertaining the _notion _of these things, let alone the images that had taken residence in his brain. He was _not _looking forward to his next trip to the confessional. And what would Bones say if she had any idea? She'd kill him. No. She wouldn't. She'd more likely raise her eyebrows and give him that disapproving look that always made him feel like some kind of big, dumb caveman. Somehow, that was worse.

Desperately, he pumped at the bar faster, making the steel hot under his hands, sure if he could get to just the right intensity, all these thoughts would be wiped from his mind. It's not like he wanted to _hurt _Bones. God, no. He just wanted to see that look again. Maybe if he could see it a little closer, for a little longer, it wouldn't make him so damn curious…

And because she wanted to torture him, she knocked on his door.

He _knew _it was her, because nobody else came to his apartment at this time of night. And no one else was quite so determined to be the death of him.

Wiping the sweat from his brow with the towel he had nearby and not bothering to change out of his white undershirt, he made his way to the door and opened it, regarding his partner warily. "Bones. You just had to come tonight, didn't you."

She nodded seriously. "Yes, I did. How did you know that?"

"Because God has a sense of irony." After briefly resting his head against the doorframe, he sighed and gestured. "Come in."

She did so, the picture of professional even at 11 pm. Except for the shoes, he noticed as she walked away. Those heels could be qualified as deadly weapons. They'd probably be confiscated at an airport. Those shoes _oozed _sexuality. Why the hell was she wearing them tonight? Mentally groaning, he steeled himself for a long visit.

* * *

She just wanted to talk. Like she always did when she came across a particularly interesting epiphany. It was interesting. She wanted to _share. _And she felt just a little badly about obviously interrupting Booth's workout. Why did he always have to be such a _man? _

"I saw Sweets today."

"For a session?"

"Yes."

He looked hurt. "You went to a therapy session _without _me?"

"I had…personal matters I wanted to discuss."

Now, he seemed to be vacillating between hurt and concern. "Are you okay? Why couldn't you talk about it with me?"

Crossing her legs, she looked at him exasperatedly. "I'm _fine." _Pausing for a second. "Dr. Sweets thinks that I haven't had my relationship needs met."

"Well, yeah. Look at the people you've been in relationships with."

"He says…what?" Well _that _was kind of presumptuous. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" He glanced at her face and quickly looked away. "I mean… Michael Stires? The cult guy? Sully? They aren't going to get you. Let's be honest with each other."

She was slightly annoyed by his implied criticism. "Granted, those relationships didn't work out. But it wasn't _all _bad. Look at Sully. He was a very thoughtful and sensitive lover."

"Alright. That's enough of that, Bones." Looking extremely uncomfortable.

"He always was concerned with my pleasure and receptive to experiencing new things," she continued.

"Bones. I get it. Just stop." Discomfort turning to annoyance.

"And he was actually very skilled at…"

"_BONES." _A little shocked at his forcefulness, she stopped short and turned all her attention to him. And was surprised by the look of intensity on his face…the gritting teeth, the stiff jaw, the tense forehead. The wild eyes. Then, she was even more surprised by her immediate reaction to his anger. She got wet. Total, complete, stomach fluttering, thigh-clenching arousal. Sort of like when she was watching him with that suspect the other day… hmm. She tested him.

"Why does that make you so upset, Booth? When I talk about other men being good lovers? Does it make you question your own prowess?"

"I swear to God, if you don't stop…"

"You'll what?" she challenged. "What are you going to do to me?"

Their eyes locked on one another for an almost unbearable few seconds. He was in her face; she could breathe him. Then: he backed away.

"Nothing," he mumbled. "You know I wouldn't do anything to you, Bones." He sat back in the couch, looking defeated. Completely missing her disappointed expression.

She paused for a second before replying softly. "That's the problem, Booth. You are always getting angry at me for one thing or another. But you never _do_ anything about it. What do I have to do to get some real feeling out of you?"

It took a second for him to even hear her, and once he did, it still didn't sink in. He looked up at her, flabbergasted. "Huh?"

"I said, what do I have to do? Push you around? Touch your stuff?" Boldly, she reached across his coffee table next to him, where he had dispensed of his badge, gun, and handcuffs when he got home from work. Her fingers brushed the butt of the gun before he pushed her hand away.

"Don't touch that."

"Why? Don't you trust me?" She made another attempt. This time, he grabbed her wrists, held them together.

"Bones, God dammit." Then, the light clicked on. That look. The hungry one. The one he had been picturing in his mind and his fantasies ever since he saw it a few days ago. Something inside him snapped. Swiping the cuffs from beside him in a lightening-fast moment, he slapped them on one of her wrists, ignoring her shocked look as he pulled her to her feet and half-led, half-pulled her to the door of his bedroom, mumbling the whole way. "What do you think you're doing? Think you can just come in here with your big innocent eyes and your fuck-me shoes and provoke me without consequences? What the _fuck_? Arms up." He had stopped her right in the door frame, right under the metal bar that he had been using earlier to try (unsuccessfully) to stop thinking about her. Unbelievably, she listened to that last demand, her arms obediently raising and her hands grasping the bar, which she reached easily in those fucking sexy-as-hell shoes. Without even thinking he threaded the chain of the cuff up and over the bar, snapping the other side on her free wrist, metal clinking against metal.

Her eyes were wide and her breath was coming fast and she was completely helpless now, trapped in his doorframe. He took a step back and looked at her. And was immediately overwhelmed with reality and guilt. This was his partner. His _friend_. And if anyone were to walk in on this particular scene, he'd be arrested for sure. Should be. What was he doing? But that look…

He reached out to touch her face, and she flinched, just slightly. He cupped her chin, gently. "Is this okay?" In a whisper.

Her big blue eyes reflected many things right that second. But fear wasn't one of them. She nodded once, slightly.

Game on.

* * *

At her consent, his demeanor changed again, guilt gone for a moment, heady tension and arousal taking its place. He was _almost _against her, but not quite. Infuriatingly, not quite. In a low voice, he talked to her. "You think it's fun to push my buttons? To make me crazy? Your hands aren't free to push any buttons now. How does that feel? What are you gonna do now?"

She sounded both nervous and excited when she spoke. "I don't need my fingers to push your buttons, Booth. You know that. I can just…"

His fingertips brushed her lips, shushing her. "You don't get to talk anymore tonight. You can beg, if you want to."

Her mouth fell shut. She certainly was _not _going to beg. Holding onto the vestiges of control that she hadn't given up yet, as tightly as she was holding onto the bar above her, she looked at him defiantly. Him, with his heaving chest and piercing eyes, smelling of cologne and sweat and pure _man, _strong hands flexing but refusing to really touch her yet, torturing her with the anticipation of whatever he'd choose to do next. And she _wanted _him to do things, she acknowledged, only to herself. Oh, yes. Lots of things.

Despite him telling her she couldn't talk, he continued to ask her questions. "You're a tease, Temperance Brennan. You talk about sex more than anyone I know, and you want me to not touch you? You look at me like you're hunting me down. Think I didn't notice it the other day?" Two of his fingers began to play with the top button of her shirt, twisting it a little. "You were watching me with that woman squirming in my hands, and you were wishing it was you, weren't you? Always struggling, but practically _begging _to have me pin you down." Her face flushed a deeper pink now, and neither of them realized just how right he was until that moment. Got her.

He pulled at her shirt. The button strained at the thread that was holding it, coming dangerously close to popping off before it finally relented and was pulled through the buttonhole. And she moaned. His cock, which had been at half-mast ever since she walked through his door and had been on a steady progression to full hardness while they talked, began a maddening pulse in his jeans at her vocalization. Like she had said, she didn't have to talk to push his buttons. It pissed him off a little bit, and he yanked at the rest of buttons; some of them held, some of them didn't, but her gasp satisfied him until he realized the other surprise she had in store for him. She wasn't wearing a _bra. _Standing up tall, arms in the air, her breasts were displayed proudly for him to see, nipples drawn into hard points. He stared. She squirmed.

When the _hell _was he going to touch her? His hands were white-knuckled gripping either side of her shirt, and she thought she could hear the pounding of his heart before she realized it was her own. _"Please please please, just a little touch… stroke me, run your fingers around my nipples, pinch them, pull them, _anything _is better than this." _But her mouth refused to verbalize the words. He let go of her shirt and she almost sobbed; it turned into a whimper when he reached for her pants instead, unbuttoning them, unzipping, bending to yank at the tapered legs of her jeans over her shoes. Her sky-high stilettos that she had convinced herself just went with the outfit, just like she had convinced herself that she didn't need a bra tonight because she'd only be stopping for a quick chat, and she'd be more comfortable this way. It couldn't have been because she had hoped for this reaction. And now, she stood in front of him in those shoes and her panties and her shirt hanging open, and he stalked around her body like she was his prey.

"This is what you wanted, right, Bones? To be all exposed to me, driving me crazy? You're gonna know what it's like to be driven crazy. You'll wish you never started this game." He was standing behind her and she twisted her body to see him, but the chain of the cuffs caught, wouldn't allow her that mobility. She whimpered in frustration. "You have something you want to ask for?"

Oh, the bastard. "Touch me," she whispered through gritted teeth, bare skin on fire, trembling for his hands.

"What was that? Didn't quite hear."

"_Touch me," _she said, anguished. He didn't, and she knew what he wanted. Wanted her to give up the rest of her control. She _couldn't. _But she had to. If she had to stand her untouched for any longer, she would go crazy. She'd even settle for touching herself right now. But he had taken away that ability, as well. "Please," she whispered. Relenting. "Please touch me."

At her supplication, she felt his hot hands span her midriff, and the anticipation made the feeling nearly orgasmic. Fingertips, light as gossamer traced up her stomach and rib cage. Holding her breath as they trailed ever closer to her aching breasts….only to be disappointed when they barely swiped the rounded bottoms of them before moving up her shoulders, encountering her shirt there. Up her throat, her jaw. Her head dropped back and found his shoulder there, and it felt like a strangely intimate thing: resting her head against him whilst chained up so crudely here. But it felt good, so she stayed there, panting slightly, willing his hands towards her erogenous zones. Which, granted, felt like every part of her body right at the moment. She heard him talk lowly into her ear, making her shiver. "I'll touch you. My way."

He pulled her back closer against him and she sagged as much as the cuffs would allow while his hands returned to their tortuous, slow exploration of everywhere except the places she wanted him the most. Her panties felt unbearably slippery and a dull throb took residence in her womb. How could this be what she needed? Temperance Brennan liked quick gratification, she liked telling her lovers what to do and where to touch her. How could she possibly so fucking turned on right now? "Booth…"

"You gonna beg for me, Bones?" His thumbs slid just inside her panties on each side, hardly brushing the outer lips of her sex before removing his fingers and trailing them down her thighs. She let out a frustrated sigh.

"Booth…I need…to come. Please make me come." It wouldn't take much. If he would just really _touch _her…

"I'll make you come," he agreed. She squeezed her eyes shut in relief. "My way."

That couldn't be good. Well, it could be good. But she had a feeling that his way wasn't the quick, easy way, which is what she so desperately wanted right now. But this wasn't about what she wanted. It was about what she needed.

The sight of him sinking to his knees before her, as if worshiping an idol, was nearly enough to undo her, and the irony of the submissive motion wasn't lost on either of them. He contemplated her soaked panties for awhile. "I've thought about what it might be like to taste you. I know you've probably thought of what that might be like, too. But in your mind, I bet you were pushing me down, holding my hair. It's not gonna be that way." He carefully pushed the thin material to one side. She shook. "You might want to hold on for this." And then his tongue was dragging over her, from the bottom to the top, lingering over her entrance and tasting her thoroughly there before continuing its journey, stopping right before reaching the underside of her clit. She could hardly believe the sounds filling the room were from her own throat.

"Oh, God…" It wasn't quite begging, but he allowed her this, repeating his motions, coming closer and closer to the swollen nub of her clit. She wasn't quite sure whether to scream complaints or thanks to him. Finally, one of the swipes of his tongue reached her nearly painfully-aroused clit, and she was momentarily surprised until she realized she was begging without even being aware of it, her mind on autopilot while her body absorbed this pleasure. He licked her slowly, completely, pausing at her clit to give it a few rapid sucks before abandoning it, not letting her get too used to the intense pleasure. Laving her, he stiffened two fingers and tickled her soaking entrance before sliding them inside her. Her body tautened, incoherent words babbling from her mouth while he licked her into oblivion, fingers pumping into her madly while his other hand traveled up her body to touch the nipples that had been begging for him. She was on stimulation overload. She was going to explode. She was going to…

Then, he stopped, his mouth letting her go, fingers withdrawing until just the tips were inside her, teasing her. Gasping, she writhed, trying to increase the contact, but he wouldn't let her. Her body had been on the edge of something tremendous, and now the sensation pulled back, leaving a throbbing so deep it almost ached. "Oh _fuck _Booth…" She heard his sharp intake of breath and knew that her cursing affected him. But not so much that he'd give her what she wanted. Her breathing and fluttering pulse slowed. Which was his signal to being tonguing her and pumping her furiously once more. Throwing her leg over his shoulder she quavered against him, in a frenzy….until he stopped again.

He did this to her four times, and the last, at the brink of her long-frustrated orgasm, she remembered why he had told her to hold on. Lights flashed behind her eyelids, and her fingers began to slip. "Booth, _please…catch me." _And right before her full weight collapsed on the cuffs, he lifted her completely, wrapped both of her legs around his neck and supported her, never stopping what he was doing to her for a second. In that second, all of her frustrated longing and desperate urges and wants and needs caved in on her. Her senses all jumbled up and switched places, and she was tasting his groans against her, hearing his touch, feeling his scent as she cried and let go against him. _Yes. Thank you. Thank you._

There was some orgasm-driven amnesia after that moment. She barely recognized her feet hitting the floor again when he gently set her down, the break in contact as he went to the table to get the keys, the tingling in her wrists when he uncuffed her and her arms slowly lowered again and she stared at her hands as if forgetting what they were for. She didn't even pay much attention when he lifted her with infinite care, scooping her up and carrying her to his bed, where he laid her, smoothing back her hair, taking off her shoes. What brought her back to awareness was the gentle touch of his lips against hers—their first kiss. Suddenly everything came back, and she was there again, no longer submissive, participating as fully as she ever had in a kiss in all her life.

That's how they made love then… taking turns, but always together, the sounds of their mutual pleasure crescendoing into the darkened room, coming to a stunning peak and an equally satisfying denouement which, this time, left them both dazed. They laid for a long while in one another's arms, stunned expressions on both of their faces until one of them could speak again.

"Stay the night," he asked.

"But work tomorrow…"

"I'll take you."

She nodded in agreement. Satisfied, he closed his eyes, until she spoke once more. "But I'm driving."

His eyes snapped open, and he almost had to chuckle. Deep down, he was glad that Bones' submission was a temporary condition. It just wasn't in him to dominate her all the time.

"Booth?" she asked, sleepily.

"Yeah?" Kissing her forehead.

"Thanks for catching me."

"Thanks for falling with me."

Then, the place they fell was asleep. Chains broken, needs met, and fears held in submission.

* * *

"I'm glad that you agreed to come for a follow-up session, Dr. Brennan. How are you doing?"

"Very well, thank you."

Dr. Sweets smiled at the put-together scientist in front of him, her looking much less insecure than she had at their previous meeting."Were you able to assertively communicate your needs for being able to rely on Agent Booth…for having permission to be occasionally submissive?"

"I believe so." She seemed to think about it for awhile. "Yes…I was fairly direct."

"And the outcome?"

"I would say that the outcome was positive. I had been worried that if I gave up my power on one occasion, that there would be negative consequences—that Booth would respect me less, or begin to treat our relationship as an unequal one. But that doesn't appear to be the case. He seems to be open to meeting a variety of my needs…whether I am dominant, submissive, or somewhere in between."

Dr. Sweets beamed at her. "I'm proud of you, Dr. Brennan."

She nodded. "I'm proud of myself, believe it or not." She appeared to hesitate. "There is one thing…"

"Let's talk about it."

"I put myself in a very vulnerable position with Booth. And I'm glad that I did, because I believe I learned from that experience….learned about trust and safety. But I do feel that the dynamics of our relationship might now be slightly skewed. Because I've never seen _him _that vulnerable.

The young doctor nodded. "It makes sense. Your need to depend on people is balanced with your desire for mastery over your world, for equality in your relationships. This is the way it should be. Striving for a balance, for _equality, _rather than superiority."

"I feel I'm closer to that balance than before. But how to I gain that sense of equality?"

"Well, let's consider this. You allowed yourself to experience an intense vulnerability with someone you trust, with a positive outcome. What would it be like to ask for the same in return? What would it mean to experience Agent Booth at _his _most vulnerable?"

And once more, a slow smile crossed her face.

* * *

**A/N: I just can't help it. I love the idea of Booth with handcuffs. Forgive me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Alright, lovies. All this talk of being submissive made me more open to giving in to what you wanted. Which was a Part II to our kinky little adventure. Hope it lives up to all your Booth-handcuffing dreams;)**

**

* * *

**

Taking in the uncomfortable-looking pair in front of him, Lance Sweets contemplated how to begin this particular session. His background was in organizational psychology, and these two had originally been presented on paper as requiring assistance with improving the quality and efficiency of their team dynamics. _That _he was trained for. But he hadn't been prepared for the unconventional partners that had walked through his door. What training did he have that would get him ready for the reality of whatever the hell they were? He could have gone to graduate school for an extra decade and still be unsure how to proceed with this particular twosome. "Is there something important that we need to talk about today?"

Brennan and Booth glanced at one another, her gaze goading and her arms crossed. "I think you should tell him, Booth. After all, I have confronted _my _issues. This one is your problem."

Dr. Sweets looked at them questioningly. Booth looked embarrassed. "Well…ah…jeez, Bones, I don't know what to say." She glared at him.

This was going nowhere fast. "Dr. Brennan, why don't you explain the issue from your own perspective. Then, if Agent Booth has something to add, he can."

"Fine. Do you remember what we talked about in our last individual session?"

"Yes. Are you comfortable discussing that in front of Agent Booth?" If he properly recalled, he had encouraged his client to be assertive in restoring the balance of their partnership by asking for temporary dominance, since she had allowed her partner to see her at her most vulnerable and submissive.

"I have already discussed it with him."

"And?"

"And he's being a _baby."_

That got a reaction from the FBI agent. "Hey," he replied indignantly. "I am not."

"Booth, you are."

Dr. Sweets interrupted them before they could continue with their bickering. "Maybe this is a good time to offer your thoughts, Agent Booth."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Look. I'm a pretty… ya know… sensitive guy most of the time. I have no problem talking about _feelings _or anything. Bones has seen my… softer side. But what she's asking… that's just not normal. She's sort of telling me she wants me to be the girl."

"This sexist thought has been brought to you courtesy of Agent Seeley Booth, Macho Man," Brennan snapped.

"You're judging me. Stop judging me."

Sweets refused to get sucked into this interaction. "Agent Booth, you're saying that you have a problem with being submissive."

Booth winced. "I really don't like that word. You know. In reference to…me." Brennan rolled her eyes.

"Okay then. We'll use different terminology. What about being… less-than-strong… with Dr. Brennan do you find particularly aversive?"

The agent looked at him like he was a particularly dumb dog. "I am a _man, _Sweets. Maybe once you go though puberty you'll understand that."

The young therapist sighed. "I see that part of your understanding of what it is to be a man is being hostile to _me. _But what is your fear about 'not being a man' with Dr. Brennan?"

It was easy to see the flush that came to Booth's face, as he looked guiltily at the scientist in front of him. She stared back accusingly, and Sweets knew there was more of a story here than either were letting on.

* * *

It had been an unspoken standing arrangement. They worked during the day, professional to the end. And at night, they took turns going to one another's apartment and fucking one another's brains out. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing kinky. Just pure, raw, hot sex. They didn't talk about what they were doing. And they _certainly _didn't talk about the night when Booth had handcuffed her and tortured her slowly with his lips and tongue when she hung moaning helplessly until he finally allowed her the release she had so desperately needed. And begged for. And their illicit activities were all going along just fine and good until, to Booth's surprise, they stopped. She just didn't show up one night. He took _his _turn the following evening, but the next night, she didn't show again. He was very confused. And horny. But the "unspoken" part of their little arrangement was making it difficult to get to the bottom of things.

He had asked her if she was coming over tonight. Because he couldn't stand not knowing, but he just couldn't bring himself quite yet to ask for what he really wanted. She had looked up briefly from her computer and asked, "For paperwork?" Probably knowing that anymore, her saying the word 'paperwork' immediately gave him a throbbing hard-on. 'Paperwork' meant lots of things recently. Very few of them having anything to do with paper. Or with work.

"Yes," he replied, his teeth gritting, holding a file over his crotch to avoid her noticing just how much her little power-play was affecting him. She gave him a sweet smile.

So she came that night, because he had asked. And, strangely enough, brought over said paperwork, diligently spreading it over the coffee table and immediately beginning to talk about the case. The light was hitting her in such a way as to make her shirt a little transparent, and her glossed lips glisten. What about the case? He couldn't concentrate. Why was she trying to make him concentrate?

"Do you want a drink?" he asked suddenly.

She shook her head. "No, I'm good."

"Something to eat?"

"No."

Well, hell, if she kept this up he was going to have to go take a cold shower just to get through this night.

"Okay. What _do _you want, then?" he asked, and he knew the frustration was apparent in his voice.

She paused, smiling just a little. He tamped down an urge to strangle her for teasing him like this. But then, she was on the floor in front of him on the couch, between his knees, approaching her chosen task with a single-mindedness and slight aggression that surprised him.

"Bones, you wanna go to the bedr…" His words were cut off in a gasp as she gripped his erection and pulled it through the fly of his jeans. She ran a fingertip up and down it thoughtfully.

"No." It was all she said before her lips were sliding assiduously down the length of it, taking him impossibly deep into her throat.

Nobody gave a blowjob like Temperance Brennan. He already knew that. The woman's mouth could qualify as a deadly weapon, and she wielded at least as effectively as his fellow Rangers did their guns. He didn't even know how it was physically possible for her tongue to seemingly be in all those places at once. And right now she appeared completely intent on swallowing him whole, which was certainly _not _going to prolong their evening. Before he even had a chance to _touch _her, she was making him lose control, making him almost embarrass himself. He gently pressed at her shoulders.

"Jesus, Bones. Stop. Slow down."

She looked up, looking incredulous. "What's wrong?"

"You're making me crazy, that's what's wrong. Aaahhh… that is _not _your cue to keep going." Apparently she was taking it as such, however, as her lips continued to tug at his tender flesh. He cupped her head and pulled it back again with a gasp, and she looked at him frustratedly.

"Dr. Sweets says that I should experience you at your most vulnerable to restore the dynamics of our relationship."

He nearly choked. "You talk to Sweets about… _this?"_

"About our dynamics? Yes. Yes, I do."

Trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying was exceedingly difficult, as his mind was otherwise occupied with the angry pulsing from between his legs. "Bones, I'm not… vulnerable, okay? Now come up here and let me take care of you."

It was the wrong thing to say. She stood up, eyes flashing. "So me accessing my vulnerability for you is completely appropriate, but it's wrong to ask for the same thing from you?"

He sighed, trying to figure out what to say to stop her questions, but also keep her from leaving. "Will you just let me make you feel good?"

"What if I said it would make me feel good to hear you beg?"

No way. "No way."

Her eyes narrowed. "Fine. Then you can do "paperwork" on your own tonight and be in complete control of whatever happens with your little problem there." She gestured to his open pants.

Oh, she _wouldn't. _"Aw, Bones, don't be like that." He reached up to grab her hand, but she pulled it away.

"I don't think so, Booth. And we _will _be speaking about your control issues in our next therapy session."

And she had _left _him.

How could he be the man he wanted to be when she hurt his little _feelings _the way she did?

* * *

"You've obviously received some very strong messages about what it means to be a man, Agent Booth."

"Um… I guess." This whole situation was feeling very, _very _uncomfortable. He wasn't enjoying Doogie here telling him what it meant to be a man.

"Do you believe that these overly rigid gender roles have been helpful in your life?"

"Now wait. I didn't say 'overly rigid.' _You _said 'overly rigid.'"

"I'm feeling the need to challenge that, Booth. You said, in effect, that your definition of being a man does not include intense vulnerability, even in a safe context. That seems rigid. Or, don't you feel safe with Dr. Brennan?"

Her crystalline eyes locked on him, and she was obviously interested in his answer. He sighed. "Of course I feel safe with Bones. She's my partner. But even so, I'd like to be…_ perceived _in a certain way, even by her. Everybody wants that. Right?"

"What way is that, Booth?" she asked him softly, and it bothered him that she now knew he cared about such things.

"You know… strong. Competent. Able to…"

"Take care of me?" Brennan scoffed. She sat back, looking dangerously close to shutting down again.

"Why is it so bad for me to want to take care of you?" Booth huffed.

Sweets interrupted them. "It has already been established that as partners, you both look out for and protect each other. It's a reciprocal process. I believe you're the one who pointed that out, Dr. Brennan."

Booth gave Sweets a grateful look, and hated him just a little less than when he came in the room.

"But, the fact that you feel unable to give up your control, even knowing that your partner needs and wants you to, interests me. Can I offer an interpretation?"

"Can I stop you?"

"I'd be interested in hearing it," Brennan piped up.

That was enough for Sweets. "When children are inoculated with enough gender role stereotypes, they can easily become parts of that child's personality. In your case, you adopted many of those stereotypes as your own. But, as Dr. Brennan has recently learned, all of us have deep, innate needs to be able to let down one's guard and experience the pleasures of being vulnerable. When you feel this urge, it immediately clashes with the stereotypes you hold. The thought makes you feel weak, ineffectual, unmanly, even as you deeply desire the experience. This dissonance results in a gender role strain that came to a head when Dr. Brennan asked you to take that submissive position. It is hard work always being powerful, in control, like a 'real man' is supposed to be. But, perhaps, it's just as hard to allow yourself to give up that façade."

Booth looked at the doctor witheringly. "Get to the point, doc."

Brennan spoke. "He's saying that a 'real man' could be vulnerable without compromising his masculinity. That being vulnerable _is _a part of masculinity."

It was too much. Booth stood. "Okay, that's enough of this. You," he said pointing at Brennan accusingly. "You should be ashamed of herself, Little Miss "Psychology is a soft science" using it to justify her points of view. And _you," _pointing at Sweets this time, "instigating her."

"I'm just trying to be helpful to the both of you," Sweets insisted. Booth ignored him and turned to Brennan.

"Look," he whispered low. "I want to be able to give you whatever you want. But you're asking for a _lot."_

"Only as much as I gave you."

He knew she was right, and it only frustrated him. Being masculine was his identity. Being in control was his forte. What she wanted… he might not be _good _at it. And the thought of not being good for her…with her…was unthinkable. This time, he was the one who stalked out of the room, leaving Brennan and Sweets shrugging at each other helplessly.

* * *

He went home. Drank a beer. And another. Paced. Brooded. Thought about her. He _always _thought about her anymore. His mind fought with itself. Finally, he couldn't take it. Couldn't take being without her. Grabbing his coat, he headed for his apartment door. Before he left, he paused. It felt like he was forgetting something. He remembered, and grabbed it before he left.

Fifteen minutes later, he was at her door, knocking. She opened it, looked at him coolly, arms crossed. "What can I do for you, Booth?" she asked him.

Silently, he reached out for her hand, put it palm up in his own. She glanced down, slightly bemused at the feel of the cool metal that he took from his pocket and dropped into her hand.

"You're sure?" she asked him, holding up the cuffs and dangling them in front of him. He nodded, feeling the warmest of flushes come over his face. Stepping aside, she allowed him into her home.

Game on.

"How does this work?"

She was lighting a candle in the corner of the room, and she looked at him as if amused. "This? There's no 'this,' Booth. There's you and me, and how I'm going to repay you for your little hard-to-get act for the past few days."

"My act? You're the one who stopped coming over…"

Her eyes flashed, and he wasn't sure if it was the candlelight or not. In any case, he rethought his plan to challenge her. He was sitting at the foot of her bed, and she was suddenly right in front of him, intoxicating him with her scent. "All you had to do was ask. Right?" She rested her hands on his shoulders, and he couldn't take his eyes away from hers. "That's what you did to me. You made me beg for what I wanted." Hands dropping to his sides, fingernails scratching just under the hem of his shirt. She caught his nervous gulp, and smiled a little, climbing astride his lap. "You liked that, right? Making me shake with wanting you, knowing I would have done _anything _to have you inside of me?" she cooed into his ear. Slowly, she peeled his shirt up and over his head and felt his thumping heart pressed against her own chest. Greedily, he felt under her shirt as well, squeezing at the pliant skin there. So cute, how his growing excitement was making him forget who was in charge here. She allowed him this, let him respond to her touches by pulling off her top, gazing at her with hunger.

"So fucking pretty," he swore softly. He must have missed her.

"Thank you," she replied politely. Right before shoving him backwards onto the bed, hard enough for him to bounce slightly and gasp in surprise at the impact. With impressive dexterity, she pulled the handcuffs that he had almost forgotten about from the nightstand, and snapped them onto one of his wrists. She lifted his hands to the bars of the headboard, and he briefly hesitated, resisting her pull. A raise of her eyebrows make him think better. He lifted his arms willingly and moved back a little, so she could secure him onto the wooden bars. He laid spread, at her mercy. And despite the rush of anxiety he felt at being so out of control, some faraway part of him recognized that he had never been harder in his life as he was right now.

"You disappointed me, Booth. You had been doing so well at meeting my needs, but as soon as it got a little uncomfortable for you, you backed off. You think it was comfortable for _me _to be helpless with you, being made to scream for the things I wanted but had been too afraid to ask for? Well, now you'll know." The whole time she spoke, she was sitting on his thighs, tracing patterns onto his bare chest with the very tips of her fingers. And he was reminded painfully of how she had left him unsatisfied last night. His cock demanded that he ravish her right now, apparently not having got the memo that he was currently not in a position to do this.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked her, muscles twitching under her touch and despising the pleading quality he heard in his voice.

"That's the right question, at least." She smiled at the expression on his face. "Don't look so anxious, Booth. All I want is for you to be honest with me. You had thought of dominating me, long before you actually did. You had your dirty little thoughts, imagining owning me sexually, but you never thought of allowing me the same privilege. You need to learn a lesson in fairness." Her roving hand stopped moving then, inches from the bulge in his pants that was begging to be released.

"You want me to…"

"I want you to tell me about it. In detail. All the times you imagined me submitting to you. I know you, Booth. It made you feel guilty, didn't it?" She knew the answer, and didn't wait for a reply. "This is your chance to make amends, accept the consequences. But…if you are lucky…I might also reward your honesty, and your willingness to learn."

His mind vacillated wildly for approximately a nanosecond between the options she gave him. When the choice was made, he immediately began to speak. "The first time I met you."

"Tell me."

"I had been talking with Goodman about the possibility of you serving as the liaison for our department. He said it was probably a good idea to meet you in person, but warned me that you would be a tough sell. I wasn't worried. You were finishing something up in the lab, by yourself. I saw you from behind, in that damn blue coat and latex gloves and your hair pulled back, but I could already tell you were gorgeous. You turned around when he introduced me, and I smiled at you, my best smile. And you gave me the most dismissive look I had ever seen. Could have turned a man to stone. Goodman left us alone in there together, and the whole time, you refused to even consider that we might be helpful to each other."

She shrugged from above him. "I resented someone telling me in what arena I should be doing my job. And I didn't like you being slick with me."

"You made that very clear."

"So what did it make you want to do?" she asked, with an innocent quality to her voice that he knew was bullshit. It brought back a little of the anger and frustration that he had felt on that day. One of the rare occasions that his charm got him nowhere.

"I thought about moving closer to you, so slowly that you wouldn't even recognize it until I had you backed up to the table. I could hear you asking what the hell was I doing, and me replying that I just thought you'd like to know what I and the F.B.I. had to offer you. Feeling your breathing quicken while I lean a little closer, making you want that kiss, then backing off. You'd challenge me again, I knew you would, say that there wasn't anything I had that you would want." Damn, talking about this was getting him worked up. He shifted a little on the bed, trying to get relief from his too-tight pants.

"And then?" she asked. He looked up at her defiantly.

"That's when I'd spin you around and bend you over that goddamn table. And you'd squeal a little but you wouldn't stop me. Not when you felt my hands at your hips and my hard-on grinding against your ass. You'd be indignant, but pleased, too, because you'd know you got to me, and you like that. It makes you hot. Too hot to do anything but squirm when I reach around to undo your pants, put my hand down them and feel how soaking wet you are while you buck against my fingers. Too hot to do anything but whisper to me that if I had anything to offer you, I better give it to you now before you change your damn mind. And too hot not to moan a little bit when I yank down both our pants and pound you, even though anyone could walk in that room at any time. God _damn, _Bones, why are you making me talk like this? It's driving me crazy."

And he wouldn't dare point out that maybe he wasn't the only one feeling a little crazy. Her eyes were glazed, her nipples hard against the silky bra she was wearing, and she was rocking slightly against his thighs. He was jealous of her mobility right now.

"That's bad, Booth," she said softly, a little shakily. "The very first time we met, you're already thinking about how to tame me? Make me bend to your will? And you didn't even know me."

Yes, he had had enough of those guilty thoughts once he left. He knew very well that she was a brilliant, respected, classy woman, and he very much wanted her respect as well. The thoughts he had about her were completely inappropriate, and he said a couple of extra Hail Mary's at church later just to try to cleanse himself of how dirty his fantasies made him feel. "I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry." Then he gasped at the mild sting of the hot wax she dribbled onto his chest from the candle she had lit earlier. He swore under his breath. He was as hot for it as ever before.

She set the candle aside, the wax cooling and hardening in dots even against his heated skin. Leaning over his body, she gently traced her tongue around those spots. He moaned at the feel of her mouth soothing away the remnants of the stinging. "You're forgiven," she said softly against his skin, and if he hadn't been bound, he would have hugged her in gratitude. Then fucked her. Hard.

"What else?" she asked, returned to her seated position on him. Dear Lord. She was going to make him do this again? Her voice replayed in his mind. _'Every dirty little fantasy,' _it reminded him. This was going to be a long night.

"The first case we worked on together," he sighed. "I found you in the firing range shooting bullseyes like your life depended on it. You taunted me, questioned how I was doing my job. You told me to be a cop, like you doubted I knew how to do that."

"That made you angry."

"You're damn right it did. You don't know how close I came…"

"To what?"

Fuck. "In my mind, I had you tight against that wall, and that sure look you had in your eyes became a little doubtful. I decided to make all that cocky confidence disappear, so I just did it. Kissed you so damn hard that you should have been glad my hand was there to keep your head from slamming back against the wall. And you were kissing me back, and so fucking into it, I knew that you were gone, so I pressed my other hand between your legs. I start rubbing your clit through your pants, hard, and you are gasping. I rub you and kiss you until you are shaking, I'm practically holding you up against that wall, you're going to come. And then…I gather up all the self-control in my body and I stop. Tell you I always know _exactly _what I'm doing. And then….I walk away, leaving you there to think about what you did." He had no doubt he was going to get punished for that one. And God help him, he was almost eager for it. When the wax fell on him, he let out a shaky sigh, followed by a groan as this time, her forgiving tongue trailed all the way down to the fly of his pants, where she opened them a little, giving him some measure of relief from the growing pressure. And then:

"What else?"

So he told her. Everything he remembered, every time he imagined tying her up, or blindfolding her, or spanking her cute little ass until she gave him the validation that he longed for, screaming her delight at his ministrations. He described each detail of his actions, and how her body responded, and after each bedtime story came the wax, hot and dripping onto his bare skin, making him wince but at the same time anticipate with rapture the way that she would reward his honesty. Once, she took off her bra, lowering her breasts to his mouth so he could kiss them the way he described in his fantasy, laving her nipples in his mouth until she was gasping herself Another time, she finally removed his pants, which had become nearly tortuously uncomfortable, gently cupping the bulge she found and giving it a squeeze that made him ache in pleasure. He rattled the cuffs at this, thinking maybe they would magically disappear if he willed them away. No luck.

Finally, he begged her. He needed her. It had been too long, and he had been overstimulated tonight. "Please, Bones. I did what you asked. Let me feel you. Really feel you. _Please." _He felt euphoric when she nodded slightly. Standing, she removed her pants, tempting him with all that bare, flushed skin that he couldn't touch. She straddled him again, and he marveled at her, this women who pushed his buttons so easily, who he would give up his pride for. He wasn't sure that he wouldn't have a heart attack when she slid down his cock, inch by tortuous inch, and he gasped in relief. Forgetting that by this point in his own domination of her, he still had a few surprises in store.

She didn't move. She sat there on top of him, breasts heaving, encasing him in a silken vice. He raised his hips desperately, trying to get the friction that both of them needed, and she wouldn't budge. Leaning closer, lips brushing against his as she spoke, she asked him, "What have you learned tonight?"

Think, Booth. _Think. _"I…ah…I'm not sure…"

Looking disappointed, she began to rise off of him. "Really? I had thought we were making progress…."

"No! We have. We have." She settled back in. "I learned…I learned that it is only fair for both of us to have our turns being submissive. That sometimes I need that." She rewarded him with a pulse of her inner muscles, and she should have been glad that alone didn't send him tumbling over the edge. "I learned that you'll take care of me when I'm vulnerable. You'll forgive my weaknesses." Another pulse. He talked faster. "I learned that we are so fucking good together that it doesn't matter who is and isn't in control. I learned that I need you all the ways I can have you. I learned that you have me as much as I have you. And I learned that it's no fucking good without you and _Jesus Bones I want you so bad right now that I feel like I'm going to die just please please show me that you need me too please…" _And he was jabbering now, begging her even as she began to move, rocking him, drawing all the repressed sensations up and through his body. And as he exploded he was still begging, not sure whether he wanted her to stop, spare him the ultra-intense sensations, or keep going forever, just leave him here to do whatever she wanted with him because he knew that whatever it was, it would be good. She milked him dry, all his expectations and assumptions and perceptions torn to pieces, giving him a starting place to put them back together again.

When he had nothing left in him to give, his body spent, he laid panting, feeling as if there weren't enough air in the room to recover from that experience. He felt Bones lean over him, gently wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Thank you, Booth," she said sweetly. She left him and when she came back, he jumped a little as the warm washcloth touched the skin of his chest, as she washed the bits of wax away. "You can put your arms down now, you know," she advised. Moving them, he was surprised to find the cuffs gone. He hadn't even realized that she had removed them. He brought down his arms, a little self-consciously.

"So," he said, slowly. "Was that... you know… good for you?"

She looked at him amusedly. "Well, I don't know. The second orgasm wasn't quite as good as the first, but I would say that three is my lucky number. So yes. It wasn't too bad." Winking at him.

Gratefully, he laughed a little. "You know what, Bones? Maybe this therapy thing is good for us. I feel like we're both learning a little something new."

She nodded. "Think you might be right." Giving his body one last, loving swipe with the cloth, she placed it down on the stand beside them and joined him, nestling her head into his shoulder. They were quiet for awhile.

"Bones?"

"Hmm?"

"Any of those things I talked about while we were… you know… any chance you'd… um… play along?"

She couldn't help but chuckle. "Glad we've been relieved of our guilt tonight."

"Yeah. Thanks for that," he grinned. He reached over and picked up the candle, which was little more than a stub anymore, from the nightstand. "Anything you are feeling guilty about?"

"Don't push it, Booth."

"Wouldn't dream of it." With a rush of breath, he blew the candle out, plunging them into darkness.

* * *

"You're looking much more relaxed today," Dr. Sweets observed. It was always pleasant to see his clients improving from one session to the next.

"Yeah, I think we're doing pretty good, Doc," Booth agreed, catching his partner's eye from across the couch and grinning at her. She smiled back prettily.

"I know things got a little tense during our last session, and I wanted to talk about the feelings that this discussion of gender roles and vulnerability brought up."

"Actually, I think we may have worked things out on our own," Dr. Brennan replied. "We've been doing much better at unfacilitated open and honest communication."

"That's good to hear, Dr. Brennan. Has therapy played a role in that?"

"We were just talking about that," Booth responded. "We had our doubts, but therapy has opened up lots of different avenues for discussion. It's been good for us."

Dr. Sweets beamed.

"And the really amazing thing," Dr. Brennan continued, "is that it's had positive effects on our partnership and friendship, as well."

Now he was just confused. "As well as what?"

She looked at him as if he had the intelligence of an amoeba. "Our sex life." Agent Booth nodded.

Sweets' mouth fell open. "Just wait," he said slowly. "You are trying to tell me…that this whole time…we've been talking about sex?"

His clients looked at him blankly. "What else would we be talking about?"

"I thought that maybe you were working on the trust-building activities that we discussed early in our work together. You know, the falling backwards off a chair and catching each other, the 'mine field' activity where you verbally guide each other while blindfolded… that stuff."

They looked at each other scoffingly. "Well those things are just silly," said Booth.

"Actually, the blindfold thing isn't too far off, though," Brennan corrected.

Sweets dropped his shaking head to his hands. "You two are unbelievable." Sighing.

"Hey, don't feel bad. You helped a lot," Brennan said comfortingly.

"Yeah, really. But hey Doc, Bones and I have to go. We have some work to do. You know… on… um…_ other _issues. But I think we've got it from here. Thanks for everything, though." They stood, and Booth slapped him on the shoulder. "You just keep doing what you are doing."

Sweets sat for awhile after they left, stupefied. Finally, he pushed his chair back over to his computer. Pulled up his search engine, and typed in "Certification in Couples and Family Counseling." Apparently he was receiving a strong message that he had missed his calling. And right now, a career change felt like just what the doctor ordered.

* * *

**A/N: Now, don't we all feel better now that that's out of our system? Now seriously. Done. Surely there are **_**some **_**folks out there still wanting the nice, normal smut in Scenes from a Hat (normal. Ahem.). And wanting to find out what happens to poor, comatose Booth in Be With Me? Well, **_**I **_**wanna find out, anyway;)**

**But seriously, folks, thanks for encouraging me with this one. 'Twas a blast. You rock.**

**Don't forget to hit the magic button!**


End file.
